#year of otp January

[simon-x-billy]

Simon x Billy

The Year of OTP: January

Chapter 1: Where’s Giuseppe WTF?

January prompt: Historical au (because 2015 counts as the past)

Note: Simon x Billy is a slow-burn m/m fic; turns NSFW (male/male, consensual) beginning tamely at Chapter 7.

Meet the OTP: Simon Lewis, author and star of The Mortal Instruments, who keeps writing himself into his novels; and Billy Delaney, Irish handsome devil and international chef of mystery; and also Italy. It’s sort of like a threesome. TMI AU: Instead of Simon Lewis being only a character in the best-selling YA series, he is now also the author of that series. TW: References to having been cheated on, bad language, bad humor, Irish-isms, calling young people criminals, making fun of Americans, LGBTQIA+ themes, having to wait for the NSFW chapters to show up.

Masterlist || ao3 || Next

Chapter 1: Where’s Giuseppe WTF?

———/Simon/———

OK, fine, baggage claim was a little rough. Finding baggage claim was a little rough. Finding Customs was a little rough. Customs was Customs. I mean, what’s to know, they look at you suspiciously, and if you smile excitedly cuz you’re in a new country, they look at you suspiciously some more, and you start wondering if they’ve noticed something you haven’t.

At least that’s how I felt. Like, maybe I have a single very long nose hair or something horrifying like that. I don’t know? They’re Customs. They notice shit like that.

On a positive note, they’re just fine communicating with people who only “have” one language. They asked me if I had Italian, and I kept waiting for them to finish their sentence. You know? Like, do I have Italian… Food? Relatives? Then they were like, “Do you have any other languages?” And I’m thinking, maybe I caught one in-flight. Planes are well known for making people ill. Or I could’ve caught something cool, like Norwegian! In fact, I could’ve had it my whole life and it’s just never had any symptoms. You never know.

Meanwhile, the train ran on time. And the Red Sea parted. Two impossibilities amounting to miracles.

So yeah, sure, I’d done some prepping for the trip. I refuse to reveal my sources as they are completely mortifying. OK fine, it wasn’t even an app. It was a book. With pictures in it. More specifically, the one my parents used when they planned their trip to the Amalfi Coast.

I used it to plan Our Trip. The one that became My Trip. Flying solo. In so, so many ways.

Believe me, and you need to trust me on this one: Never propose to a girl you met in costume. And if you did and it turned out great, shut up. And mazel tov. May all your children have bar and bat mitzvahs with a good dj. And puppies.

Just remember, your first impression of her is while she’s cosplaying someone else. You might find you’re falling for a personality that isn’t really her on the inside. The whole thing is exhausting. Because my beautiful but cruel shiki found somebody else to cosplay with.

She revealed this shortly after breaking up with me.

No, Simon. I do not choose you. No, Simon. I never choose you. Said every girl ever.

She gave me lots of reasons why. Constructive observations for my next relationship, she said. So at least I had something to think about on the plane to Naples that made me feel really good about myself. For 22 hours including two layovers and a bonus train ride from the airport to downtown Naples. (Trust me, just fly into Rome. Why didn’t it occur to me to fly into Rome?)

I once read a book where the most flamboyant, exciting character said something of extreme poetry and wisdom. (Because poetry and wisdom can both be extreme. Whatever.) It went a little something like this: “Unsolicited advice is just criticism.” Ok fine, I’ve read it more like 25-30 times. Alright look, I can’t be coy. I wrote it. And 25-30 is how many revisions my editor tried to convince me to take it out. (I won.)

I like stories that stretch out over like 20 books in a series. You get to stay with the characters you love until you finally stop re-starting the series the minute you close the last page of the last book. Again.

I think I’d be a vampire irl. And I have thought a lot about it. I mean a lot of thinking on this topic. And you can’t convince me that fairies and werewolves are even in the running for best paranormal destiny.

I like stories where choosing to be a vampire is one of the safer bets. Because you’re already dead.

Don’t start. I’ve fought table top duels over this and I refuse to go over that ground again. Take my word for it. You want to be a vamp.

She was a vamp. I was a vamp. (D, because who else?) We thought we were made for each other. Until she didn’t. Think that anymore. I guess she’d been not-thinking that anymore for months and months. And here I am, presenting her with a trip to Italy where I was going to propose. I had it all planned out. I mean I had it all planned out. Because that’s how I roll. (A 20-sided die, obviously.) Ugh. So when she says she doesn’t want to leave the city, I’m like, “But it’s Italy! And me!”

Turns out the trip wasn’t the only thing she didn’t want.

Turns out she was also being quite literal about not leaving the city. And so, like the heartless traitor she is, she abandoned Brooklyn for the Upper West Side and a yoga instructor with a man bun and half a million followers on Twitter.

Half a million? What even is that? I mean, I get 100 followers -- wow, friend, you are on fire! I get a million followers -- wow, somewhat famous person, you are on fire! But, like, what’s halfway between the two?

So the “hot yoga instructor” -- her words, not mine -- is a person that exists. I told her that she didn’t have to be mean about another, hotter guy. And you know what’s coming next. You totally do.

The hot yoga instructor is an instructor of hot yoga.

But since I mentioned it, she laughed and said he is also a hot instructor, of yoga.

Thanks. I don’t feel angry tears at all when I think about that.

Anyways, I was talking about trains in Italy running on time, and somehow I land on vamps. Welcome to the brain of Simon Lewis, enjoy your stay.

Oh my god. There’s a McDonalds here. It’s like a crime against Italian humanity. “That should be illegal,” I announce to no one in particular. Followed by “Shut up, Lewis, that guy over there is staring.” And yes, I do use my last name when I scold myself out loud in public. Because people find that attractive and charismatic.

So the train in Italy running on time is actually my problem. “My driver” isn’t due for another 30 minutes. Which means I get to spend an additional 30 minutes enjoying my own company some more. And also avoiding talking to any strangers. Which is particularly difficult in the Naples train station. And even more unlikely when you’re standing in the same spot forever and ever.

I’m full of my mother’s dire predictions of criminal young people offering their services to help you find your way around the train station. And when that fails, they’re supposed to start begging for money. And when that fails, Oliver and the Artful Dodger pick your pocket. So put your money and your passport down the back of your underwear or something equally unworkable when you’re dealing with Customs.

That little gem was actually written in the margins of the travel book. By my mother. So I wouldn’t forget to keep it in my pants. “Simon, don’t forget about the criminal young people. Keep it all in your underpants.”

So standing here looking like I’m waiting (and waiting and waiting), I’m an easy target. But as my t-shirt says, I’m from Brooklyn. We do not pay people to tell us where we are and which line to stand in. It’s a matter of pride. Unbelievable. Being from Brooklyn, I understand trains. I can find my way around any train station in the world. Hubris! But it’s true. Even in foreign alphabets. It’s in my blood, it’s in the East River, it’s in the soot-flecked air we New Yorkers are born breathing.

So here I am in the Naples train station with my underwear full of credit cards, IDs, and my emergency contacts laminated in both English and Italian. And now I also have that hot tingling in my eyes and the slight burn in my sinuses that threaten angry tears again.

I’m supposed to see a little old man with a big old mercedes, holding up a sign saying “Simon Lewis.” His name is Giuseppe and he came very highly rated on travelbookie.com. Very highly rated.

So, ok, ummm- This guy is definitely not Giuseppe. He doesn’t look that much older than I am. He’s an awfully chatty Irishman named Billy. So I’m like, “What’s Billy in Italian?”

“Fuck if I know,” he laughs. “They just say Beelee. Which puts me off every time, if I’m honest. God bless ‘em, they’re beautiful people, right, but Beelee is so wrong.”

“What’s your last name?”

“Delaney.”

“So in Italian, you’re Beelee Day-la-nay.”

“Y’speak Italian then, do yeh?” he laughs.

“Fluently. This app taught me how to say ‘dog’ and ‘blouse’ and I leveled up really fast — one of my great talents, by the way.”

“Leveling up, is it? Or Italian?”

“Italian. Certo. That means ‘certainly,’ but you use it kind of like you would use ‘obviously.’ Why is it pronounced ‘chair toe?’ No seriously, I’m asking.”

“Obviously,” he snorts, ignoring my lingual curiosity. “Are you mansplainin the language of the place I live to me?”

“Certo.”

Billy rewards me with a low chuckle. It may have been low and just a chuckle, but it was real. Being a connoisseur and collector of bad puns and dad jokes, I have a finely tuned ear for real laughter, as opposed to the usual laughing-just-to-be-nice.

“So I’m better off with Beelee Daylanay. I’ll have a talk with my boss and ask him to use my full name or nothin at all.” That at least gets a snort out of me. Until he says, “What about you? Are you lookin forward to bein Seemon? Sorry, mate. I think yours might be worse than mine.”

———/-/———

We’ve been talking all this time and I forgot to look out the window. As if I’m not on my dream vacation. Runner-up, actually. I’m holding my best dream vacation (Venice) for when Ms. I Do Lewis actually says, “I do.” And I will not book the rooms til after she does.

“Sorry, what was that?” I’ve been staring into space and ignoring Mr. Daylanay, who is now looking at me funny in the rear view mirror.

“Nothin important. Where’d you go, mate?”

“New York to Frankfurt to Milan to Naples. I flew out of JFK.”

“I’ll pretend to know where that is. No,” he says, “I meant just now. You disappeared behind your face.”

Um… “I did what?”

“I’ve been the only one enjoyin the sound of my voice, apparently, since you went quiet about five minutes ago. So where’d you go? Back behind your face,” he prompts.

“That’s an awfully private question, Mr. Daylanay. I’m not sure we’re good enough friends for letting you behind my face.” I kinda stumble on the word friends, cuz, well, we’re not.

“What. Is that like bein let in to visit the little man behind the curtain? That sounds a bit-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know how it sounds.” I make sure to roll my eyes loudly so he can hear. My mother always says she can hear my eyes rolling from the next room.

“Cagey one, aren’t ya?”

“Nosey, intrusive one, aren’t ya?” I counter.

He bobs his head and gives me a simple, “Ok.”

And now it’s gone quiet. I decide to disappear behind my face again for a while. I quite like it there. Maybe one day the whole world will join me. (Obscure movie reference, don’t bother.)

“Does she have a name?” he breaks into my sinking mood.

“What- Why?”

“Well, Seemon, because every story worth tellin about people generally has a name or two in it. Unless yer feelin all avant-garde while you're busy behind your face, contemplatin. Things.”

Ok, now I’m starting to get tired of his persistence. “I like to think of her as She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

“Like Voldemort. In a nighty.”

The bark of a laugh just erupts out of me before I can stop it from encouraging him. “That is the most disturbing image I’ve ever had.” My dull ache of a mood evaporates as quickly as it came, uninvited and unwelcome on this trip.

“You’re off the hook for now, but if I see you again, I’ll want to hear more about Ms. She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

And just like that, I’m annoyed again. “No.”

“Ok,” he says again.

———/-/———

While apparently spending more time behind my face, I realize I’ve ignored over 45 minutes of the view in a foreign country. Again I’m annoyed. Isn’t he supposed to be narrating the countryside or something? Giuseppe would be narrating the countryside. I frickin paid for that narration.

“So what am I looking at?” I lob at him.

“Naples.”

“Funny.” I hope he can hear my eyes rolling.

“Hold up, I haven’t finished! That great U-shape, right, that’s the Bay of Naples. The city herself is over there in the distance, all the way at the far end of the bay. All the wee towns strung out and all bunched up against the sea as tight as can be sketch out the shape of the bay and on along to the Sorrentine Peninsula -- where we’re goin. The big blue bit beyond the bay-”

“Is the Mediterranean. Yeah, I got that much.”

“Nah, mate. You don’t. See, it’s the Tyrrhenian Sea, which is just the part of the Mediterranean between the boot of Italy and Spain.”

“Thanks so much for the oceanography lesson.”

“Bit tetchy, aren’t yeh?” he says, eyeing me in the rearview mirror. “Look, mate. I’m sorry if I rubbed ye up the wrong way with makin conversation. I’m just not used to fillin in on the guest delivery service. That’s a specific kind of hospitality. Mine might be a bit more suited to conversatin across a bar. In that situation, all of this would have been charming.”

I can see him smiling at me in the rearview, trying to reset the mood.

“So you’re a bartender, not a driver. But you do work at the hotel. Right? Or…”

“Yeah sure’n I’ve been known to fill in at the bar when I’m needed.” He clarifies, “Acourse it’s the height of the high season, and all the staff are absolutely inundated with guests. It’s a busy kitchen, and no mistake.”

“So you’re not a bar-”

“Aaaaand, here we are,” he declares, pulling off the road going way too fast into what appears to be open air. But when I don’t feel us driving off a cliff, I open my eyes to see an ornate iron gate, a tile roof, a million flowering bushes, and more than one fountain.

“Allow me to be the first to welcome yeh to the Hotel Terrazze di Limoni. I’ll just fetch your bags, shall I?”

———/Read More/———

Masterlist || ao3 || Next

———/Disclaimer/———

I’ve stolen liberally from Cassandra Clare, TJKlune, and all m|m authors I’ve ever read.

[adelaidedrubman]

What if the strap could prematurely ejaculate? (Or, Jestiny gets knocked down a peg.) read on ao3.

notes: if i ever accidentally posted something good enough to trick you into following this account, i truly apologize. anyways here’s part two of the john/jestiny failstrap series. set hl&s adjacent and spiritual sequel to mine’s bigger. also new year’s eve themed, i meant to get it posted then but ironically didn’t finish in time. wordcount: 3.8k warnings: explicit sexual content, toxic relationships, emotional manipulation. (neg ’em and peg ’em, the jestiny rook method.) i feel like secondhand embarrassment and cringe dialogue is something of an implicit blanket warning for all my stuff, but. i feel the need to explicitly flag it in this one. that should tell you something. (please also see ao3 end notes or post tags for disclaimers.)

As with all holidays, Jestiny would ideally prefer to spend her New Year’s Eve outdoors. 

She would gladly take her midnight kisses whilst guzzling craft beer and watching fish leap from the water over sipping champagne and watching pixelated footage of a ball dropping — if only the temperatures of December bleeding into January in Montana would agree with her preferences. 

And sure, a sharp chisel and thick jacket could guarantee she would still be taking home her share of trout from a frozen solid pond. A good set of crampons strapped to her favorite hiking boots was all she needed to scale the highest mountain peaks, even covered in ice. A durable tent and well-insulated sleeping bag meant she could still feel wind-nipped cheeks warmed by the flames of a real campfire no matter the season, instead of settling for the store-bought logs currently crackling in the hearth behind her.

But even a rugged outdoorswoman the likes of Jestiny had to admit the blistering, unforgiving cold of Big Sky Country winter required some activities be strictly indoor-only until the first wildflowers of spring poked up from the hard, frozen earth. 

And even with all the proper equipment packed, when it came to the activities that required removing clothing… 

“God, I’ve needed this so fucking bad,” John whined against her jaw, pulling her along by the arm as his other hand impatiently finished her work of centering her strap-on properly in its harness. “I want you to fuck me all night long, right into the New Year. I want you to fuck me in every room of this house, until I can’t look anywhere without thinking of you.” 

What Jessie didn’t have to admit — at least not out loud — was that the spacious yet cozy faux rustic interior of Seed Ranch, with its pervasive scent of leather, pine, and woodsmoke wafting from the fireplace; the vista of sprawling snow covered mountains offered up by its grand far-stretching windows; the lurking presence of hoards of taxidermy animals around every corner, made it the best substitute she could imagine for the thrill of fucking outdoors. 

Yes, it was all blatantly, dreadfully fake — but fake was better than nothing.

“I want you to take me right here on my dining room table,” John continued to lustfully monologue to himself as his thighs hit the edge of the table on his path backward with Jessie in tow, turning from their embrace just long enough to sweep an arm along its length and knock all the stray clutter atop it to the floor. “Don’t hold back. Be rough enough to break it. Just give it to me and don’t stop.” He hopped atop the table to sit, then wrapped legs around Jestiny’s waist to pull her into place. “Then I want you to lay me down in front of the fireplace. Hold me close and take your time with me, give it to me slow until I’m fucking begging. Then drag me upstairs and bend me over the railing. Pound me until I can’t stand, until I cry. Then I want you to carry me into the model plane room and…”

“Yeah, yeah,” she shushed as she pushed him back to his elbows, popping the top off of the bottle of lube clenched in her fist. “I’ll fuck you on every tacky ass piece of furniture in this ugly fucking house.” She forced an extra grumble of irritation to hide the tremor of desire threatening to slip into her words from the sight of him laid back for her with legs spread, brow slick with sweat and the dew of melting snowflakes still clinging to his eyelashes. “I assume you want me to lube it up first, though…”

“Let me,” he cooed, grabbing the bottle from her just as it had begun to drip onto sleek silicone. “I want to do it…”

She shrugged in disinterested agreement, placing her hands behind her head and jutting her hips forward as he poured along the length, palm cradling its underside and sliding along to catch the excess. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on his lip as he began to pump his hand faster along the attachment. “Already so fucking hard for me.”

She crinkled her nose and cocked her head to the side. “What the fuck are you talking about?” she questioned. “It’s a fucking dildo, John — it’s always hard.”

“It’s — It’s a turn of phrase,” he huffed, tightening his grip and jerking towards him so that she near-stumbled into him. “Are you not familiar with the concept of dirty talk? Not everything has to be so damn literal. Use some imagina —”

“And why the hell are you jerking it off?” she demanded, thrusting a hand against his collarbone. “You know I can’t feel that, right?”

“Well, I’ll try to be more realistic, then,” he snapped as he leaned forward and shoved a hand between her legs. 

Fingers spring-loaded with lingering fury moved to roughly pull her harness to the side, barely stilling or softening their touch before sliding inside her. His other hand remained stubbornly wrapped around silicone to pump it at a now comically harsh pace, as if to prove just how aware he was there was no delicate flesh and blood to be concerned with suffering beneath his vice grip — beginning the spectacle with a rough shove forward of its base to press against her with a pressure that did incidentally send a rewarding flicker of pleasure through hungry nerve endings. 

“Fuck,” he ground out in repetitive correction, his tone wilting midway from a sarcastic hiss to a reverent whimper as he curled his fingers. “Already so fucking wet for me.”

Well, it wasn’t her fault he looked so good flushed and panting, even through the ridiculous theatrics. 

“Like you got room to fuckin’ talk,” she scoffed as she reached to quickly coat her fingers with lube, sliding inside him and finding right where they needed to be with a practiced ease that made her cheeks warm with satisfied pride at her own expertise. Her thumb traced a line up his cock to find and leisurely smear the precum dewing at his tip. “Fuckin’ dripping the second I get my fingers in you.”

The surrender in his next whimper was complete, paired with a bucking of his hips to beg for more as he mirrored her steady pumping in the pace of his own fingers, thumb tucking itself beneath her harness to find and stroke her clit properly — all while still uselessly jerking off the dildo resting atop it, of course. 

Well. Maybe it was useless, but she had to admit — privately — his hands did look nice doing that. 

Even if the curve of his spine restyled itself into a distinctly unnatural, exaggerated arch as he regrettably regained the faculty for words. “God, yes, do you — ah, do you like how it feels inside me?” 

Another stupid question. Reaching past the contrived, polished exterior to find the depths at which he was all warm silk fluttering to the touch? Delving inside him to feel the promise of all the power to reduce him to a stuttering, pleading mess pulse beneath a single fingertip?

How could she not be positively intoxicated by it? How could the rush of adrenaline it stirred be contained to anything less than electricity prickling along every inch of skin until the air itself felt charged with the intensity of her desire? 

“It feels like an asshole, John,” she deadpanned, dragging her finger to tease shallowly. “Felt one, you’ve pretty much felt them all — and until science finds a way to implant a g-spot in the human finger, I’ll be getting just as little out of it every time.” 

She gave a swift upward thrust for one last prod of his prostate in punctuation before she slipped fingers out entirely in the same fluid motion of her shoulders shrugging. “I’m more interested in finally getting to fuck you so good you can’t even talk to ask dumbass questions like that.”

She used the hand sticky with lube to smear a last glob onto the head of her strap as the other cradled his face, smoothing a thumb over his pouting lip as she added, “Just as soon as you ask nice.”

His pout deepened. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb now, baby. You know the drill.” She pushed him to lay with back flat on the table. “Beg me for it.”

“No,” he said testily, lifting his chin to give her a look of pure defiance. “You beg me.”

Her breath caught, for a moment — as if his words sank to snag in her chest before her mind even processed them, lunging back up as sharp barks of laughter the moment it did. 

“Alright,” she sighed, breathless, as she dropped her head to rest against his collarbone and reached down to line up her attachment. “That was funny enough I’ll let you get by without the begging, this time.”

Her hips barely canted a single centimeter forward before they were stopped by a rough fist grabbing at the base of her dildo to hold her in place. 

“It wasn’t a joke,” John hissed, eyes icing cold with determination, like a pond freezing over. “You’re going to beg to fuck me, or you won’t fuck me at all.”

She allowed her confused blinks to pick up pace into a sarcastic batting of her eyelashes paired with a sweet, dimple framed smile. “John, darling. My most cherished love. Light of my life, fire of my silicone sporting loins. Could you, kindly —” she scrunched her face into a scowl, “tell me what the fuck it is you’re talking about?” 

“You’ve done nothing all night but mock and belittle me, and act as if you’re somehow begrudgingly doing me a favor,” he snapped. “Now you’re going to admit you want it as badly as I do,” he said, allowing his tone to melt and soften as he circled a finger around delicate, rosy skin. “If you want this, you have to beg for it.” 

Oh, he was serious. 

Heat flared in the pit of her stomach at how serious he was. 

All the better. She loved a challenge. 

“Now is not the fucking time to be a brat, John,” she growled, threading fingers in his hair and tugging in the way that pulled a needy moan to the surface to tremble in his adam’s apple. “Now is the time to be a good boy and spread your legs.”

“Oh, and I will,” he moaned, craning his neck so the pull of his hair was tautened — a dare, a meet and raise of a bet. “I’ll be so good for you, as soon as I hear that magic word.” 

This time, the hand around her strap stayed still as he reached down to wrap one around his own cock. 

“Say ‘please’ for me, Jessie,” John begged with wide eyes as he began to stroke himself. “I’m already so close — don’t make me cum from touching myself alone. I want you to fuck it from me. I need your strap.”

That bastard. But two could play that game. 

“Are you begging me to beg you?” she scoffed as she began rolling her hips in steady rhythm, the tip of her strap just barely bumping against him as she fucked the grip of his hand in a promise of what she could do. “Why would I beg for something I won’t even feel?”

“Because you want to take me, don’t you, Jessie? Don’t you want this ass to be yours?” Fuck, he did not play fair — spreading his legs wider and pushing forward to rub the head against slickened, puckered skin, make it look so easy to slide home and fuck the attitude out of him. The sight alone made the friction of grinding against a held still strap-on swell to an unexpected thrum of ecstasy trickling through her veins. “God, I want it. I want to feel the way you move inside me. I want to belong to you, every part of me. I want to cum for you, only for my Jessie.”

Christ, when did the cheesy, unnatural porn lines start working on her?

“Must not want it t-too bad,” she grunted with a particularly harsh snap of her hips. The electricity in the air had heavied, absolutely saturated it. It fizzled with that strange feeling of being up high during a thunderstorm, everything so strongly charged that hair stood on end. “Since you won’t just let me —”

“Oh, I will, Jessie,” he panted, training his eyes on her impotent thrusts as he stroked himself faster. “I’ll let you do anything you want, as soon as you’re ready to —”

“Just —” She glared, thrust harder as if she could break right through his grip and end the standoff, only managing to increase pressure. “Move your fucking hand, and I’ll —”

“You’ll what?” he teased, squeezing the thighs wrapped around her waist. “Please tell me, won’t you? At least talk me off the way I like, since you’re not going to —” 

“You’re not going to get off at all, until I —” Fuck, how was this happening? How could she feel every fiber of authority she possessed suddenly unraveling to slip from her fingers? “Say you’re fucking allowed —”

“I’m so close,” he gasped, tossing his head back and arching towards her — the tip of her strap just barely disappearing as he did. “But feel so empty. Oh, Jessie, won’t you —”

“Can you just —” Her cheeks were scalding as she fumbled to grab his hips and grumbled, “For the — the fucking love of god, could you please just —”

She found herself falling forward before she’d even realized the damned word had fallen from her lips, his hand pulling away the second it was spoken and his legs flexing to pull her in, sliding inside him as her knees smacked against the table. 

And every volt of electricity hanging overhead came suddenly crashing down with her as she buried to the hilt as the coaxing of his eager rocking hips — as if lightning finally crackled through the air to ripple down her spine and spread through her body. Spread so forcefully she could taste it in her mouth, feel it tingle along her tongue and shoot down her jaw as the current seemed to hone on the place the base of the strap pressed just right against her clit — suddenly overloading from the sensation, short-circuiting into blissful oblivion. 

And it felt as if she really had been struck by lightning — the way her flesh crawled with searing heat, the way her insides turned and convulsed, the way every muscle twitched and trembled in pure surrender to its force. 

“Did you, um —” he shifted beneath her, pausing and clearing his throat as if for once in his life he realized what a ridiculous thing he was about to say and managed to think twice before saying it, “did you finish?”

“Did I —” she coughed weakly against his collarbone, wishing it had come out closer to a scoff than it did. “I’m genuinely fuckin’ curious — do you even bother to try to make the shit that comes out of your mouth make sense? Or do you just start flapping your jaws and see what happens?”

She did not wait for an answer before summoning her remaining wisps of strength to wind her hips back, forcing wobbly legs pleading to collapse beneath her to instead power a proper thrust forward. 

She yelped, a jolt of pain shooting up through sensitive, overstimulated nerves as the base of the strap pressed against her clit at the full extension of her stroke. 

John craned his neck, eyes scanning far too knowingly along the flush of pink sprawling along her cheeks and chest. “We can stop, if it’s —”

“I’m fuckin’ fine!” she barked. “I just —” She coughed, reaching down to slip a thumb beneath rubber ring and wedge under the dildo to put space between its base and her sore clit. “Gotta adjust a bit — you put this thing in at the wrong fuckin’ angle, fucked everything up.” She wriggled her hips back with a final grumble of, “Why you should never trust a man to do a woman’s job.”

She began rocking forward with hand still in place to lighten pressure against nerves pleading for rest — she could do this, she just needed to fake it through a few minutes of recovery period. She just needed to — 

“Shit!” she cursed, jittery thumb pressing too hard against the base to push it free from the ring with a taunting pop, staying lodged stubbornly inside her lover as she reeled back. She lurched forward, hurrying to retake her place, looking down to gauge position and hopefully reattach herself before he noticed. “Goddamn…” 

“Seriously, are you alright?” John questioned as he pushed himself up to his elbows. “Would you like ten minutes and a glass of orange —”

He was interrupted by a thud as he rose to sit fully upright and meet her face to face, Jestiny’s eyes barely catching to follow the shiny black blur that shot from between his legs to land heavy at her feet. 

“Fuck.” 

Her clumsy rush (since when was she clumsy? first saying ‘please’ and now this?) to turn and reach for the fallen dildo (was her sleight of hand good enough to reattach it without him noticing? what skills did she still have?) resulted in her kicking it with the heft of her combat boot (was it not a good idea to wear them during sex? who even was she?) before she’d even managed to bend down. 

She whipped around, finding hardwood bare save for a slight glistening streak. When she lifted her head to follow the snail trail of lube, she found the strap-on had rolled itself across the greater length of floor — losing little momentum as wood broke into granite. 

The slight rise of the granite platform barely impeded it at all, in fact, as it rolled right past the wrought-iron guard that had been haphazardly left ajar by Jestiny as she built the fire, tenderly welcomed into the roaring inferno of the fireplace. 

“Wha — ! Aah,” A confused, devastated noise caught in the back of Jestiny’s throat, withering there to die at the first crackle of silicone as her prized strap-on went up in flames before her eyes. 

The world swirled around her, buffeting at her senses like the cruelest of snowstorms.

The dead lump of a scream in her throat seemed to creep down to spread its decay, making her insides shrivel into brittle rot. As the stench of burning plastic filled the air, her eyes began to water from the sting of chemical smoke. She wondered if she might actually cry for the first time in her adult life.

Past the whistle and crackle of flame devouring silicone and the whoosh of her own pulse in her ears, Jestiny heard the muffled garble of a television set she hadn’t realized was on blare suddenly loud from the recesses of the ranch, cheers of ‘Happy New Year!‘ over discordant symphony of paper horns blown in celebration conjuring images of ceremonial ball reaching the denouement of its annual journey to the base of its pole into her mind unbidden.

On cue, somewhere in the background, a grandfather clock solemnly chimed to announce the turn of the hour.  

And there stood teary-eyed, gaping mouthed Jestiny — some bizarre sex toy Cinderella whose impressive phallus turned back into a puddle of cheap plastic polymer at the stroke of midnight. 

“Well,” John’s bemused hum pierced through the cacophony rattling around inside Jessie’s brain as he peered past her to the spectacle of silicone bubbling down to black ooze in his fireplace. “I guess it isn’t always hard.”

“Fuck!” Her shout crumpled back into a weak whimper as plain splintered through her knuckles before she even realized she’d swung to strike the table. 

She kept fist loosely clenched and eyes glued to the grain of the table as John turned back towards her. 

She caught in her periphery the falling of his sly smile. His brow pinched inward as he looked back and forth between Jessie’s flushed, scrunched face and the empty rubber ring at the front of her crotch, his eyes softening with the most genuine look of sympathy she thought she’d ever seen him wear, a level of earnest compassion she would have thought him incapable of even faking properly.  

The kind of condescending pity that made her stomach curdle, made her blood boil hot as a melting strap-on. That she would normally lash out to reject, were she not already so thoroughly defeated and stripped of pride. 

“It’s alright,” John whispered softly, reaching over to give a few comforting pats to Jessie’s curled fist before bringing his hand up to cup her jaw and lift her chin, guiding her to look into gentle blue eyes. “It happens to everyone, sometimes.”

“That —” she jabbed a thumb over her shoulder in gesture to the strap-on cremation still blazing strong behind her, drawing in a ragged breath, “has literally never happened to anyone before.”

“Well, it was... innovative,” John innovated the world’s first performatively horny purr that doubled as bland diplomacy to reply in, throwing his arms around her neck in embrace.

“We —” Her voice sounded so uncharacteristically small to her own ears as she stumbled over her words. “We can do other stuff. I can still finish you —”

“That’s alright. It was enough just to feel close to you,” John shushed, nuzzling against her neck. “All I want now is for you to carry me to the fireside and hold me.”

God, it was such obvious, manipulative fawning; such a poorly disguised consolation prize. She should storm out in offense. 

In no position to refuse consolation prizes, Jessie slid an arm beneath the bend of his knees, wrapping the other around his middle. She gave a slight grunt as she hoisted his weight, at this point truly just grateful she managed not to drop him on the short walk over to the bearskin rug she lowered him to sprawl atop. 

“You always look so beautiful, bathed in firelight,” John sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“You —” The impulse to counter with a comment that the firelight made him look much older from the shadows cast into the creases of his face extinguished itself as quickly as it sparked. “You would look even prettier by the light of a real campfire,” she muttered as she fell limp, allowing John to tangle their limbs as he saw fit. “That’s what we should do next New Year’s Eve. I hate being cooped up inside.”

“And do you envision our rugged adventures would begin with a first-class flight to the southern hemisphere?” he asked with a soft laugh, a hand smoothing along her sides. “I don’t have your outdoorsy expertise, of course, but I’d say it’s hardly pleasant camping weather around here.”

“It’s not so bad, actually,” she sighed pleasantly. “Pitching a tent in the dead of winter,” she continued, absentmindedly threading fingers through his hair. “So long as you —”

She coughed, clearing her throat and hiding her face and its burning cheeks against his chest as she finished the statement. “So long as you have the right equipment.”

She definitely should have just gone fishing.

[nightklok]

I think it’s just so odd how you spent almost 4-5 years so deep in a fandom and then randomly you wake up and go ‘hey I don’t like this anymore’ and your perspective slowly shifts to something negative, you can’t really do anything about it and even though you are causal in new fandoms, the idea of starting over completely is daunting.

So then you just become me and decide to focus on only 2-3 characters that are basically your OCs now

[whitedahlia13]

Stydia Through the Year

January 3 – Ghosted 6x06 5 – The Last Chimera 5x11 6 – Anchors 3x13 10 – Heartless 6x07 13 – More Bad than Good 3x14 20 – Galvanize 3x15 24 – Memory Found 6x09 26 – The Sword & the Spirit 5x14 31 – Riders on the Storm 6x10

February 2 – Amplification 5x15 9 – Lie Ability 5x16

March 8 – Apotheosis 5x20 10 – De-Void 3x22 24 – Divine Move 3x24

June 3 – Omega 2x01 & Tattoo 3x01 11 – Ice Pick 2x03 17 – Fireflies 3x03 18 – Abomination 2x04

July 1 – Frayed 3x05 8 – Motel California 3x06 13 – Condition Terminal 5x04 15 – Currents 3x07 20 – A Novel Approach 5x05 28 – Orphaned 4x06

August 6 – Battlefield 2x11 8 – Formality 1x11 12 – Alpha Pact 3x11 13 – Master Plan 2x12 18 – Perishable 4x09

September 8 – Smoke and Mirrors 4x12 24 – Wolves of War 6x20

November 15 – Memory Lost 6x01 22 – Superposition 6x02

December 6 – Relics 6x04 13 – Radio Silence 6x05

[oprescuewagon]

My January submission for Year Of The OTP -snow-

Kakashi and tenzo build a snow man :)

[badwolfarcadiabay]

Happy New Year 2024!!!!!

[allylikethecat]

January OTP Prompts

Heyyy look at me go! Day 5 🎉

5. Shooting star

Matty shivered, turning his body closer to George, tucking himself closer against his side, trying to steal as much of his body heat as he could. They were laying in the bed of a rented pick up truck, in a nest of blankets and pillows stolen from their hotel room, the sound of the waves lapping against the shore peacefully. Matty would have enjoyed it more if he wasn’t absolutely freezing. But he appreciated the effort that George had put into it, wanting to plan a date for them that was different and special, especially knowing how much Matty disliked spending time in California. 

George chuckled, and sat up, causing Matty to whine in annoyance, if it was anyone but George who had heard it he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched hum he had emitted. 

“I’m getting you another blanket, hush,” said George, running his hand over Matty’s blanket covered thigh. He pulled the blanket that was at their feet over their bodies and Matty smiled, repositioning himself against George’s side once again, pleased now that there were two blankets covering his shivering form. 

He hadn’t realized that California got cold, in his mind it was perpetually blue skies and sunny. It was sweat dripping down his back, causing his tee shirt to stick uncomfortably to his skin. Instead he found himself wearing George’s sweatshirt over his own long sleeve tee shirt, and track pants, while he wished he had worn warm socks instead of the cool ones with the cartoon frogs on them that George had given him as a joke for his birthday last year, as if George would only gift him socks. He was cold, and George had snapped at him to stop when he had tried to shove his frozen fingers under the hem of George’s sweater, hoping to warm them against the heat of the soft skin of his flank. 

“We can head back if you’re really that miserable,” said George, smoothing out the blanket, guilt heavy in his voice, his words vibrating against where Matty was pressed against his chest.

Matty bit his lip, his own guilt blooming in his chest. “No, no this is lovely, I’m just cold, but I’m sure I’ll warm up in a moment.” 

He didn’t want to meet George’s eye, he didn’t want him to see that he was lying through his chattering teeth. He appreciated the thought behind George setting up a romantic evening of stargazing. He just wished George had thought of it in July or August, not March. He turned his gaze back to the dark inky sky, littered with little speckles of light, the stars. Matty wasn’t sure where they were, just that they had driven far enough out to avoid the light pollution of the city. 

His eyes widened, “George,” he said, tapping George’s chest as if George was capable of ignoring him when they were pressed together like this, “George, look! It’s a shooting star! George! Look! Make a wish!” 

Matty squeezed his eyes shut, and made his wish while George chuckled. 

“Matty, love, that was an airplane.” 

Matty opened his eyes, and frowned. “Does that mean my wish isn’t going to come true?” 

“Depends,” asked George, still laughing to himself as he shifted Matty off of his body to dig the truck keys out of his pocket, “did you wish to go back to the hotel?” 

Day: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

[coridallasmultipass]

First sloppy makeout of the new year, ft. DirkJake. (Dirk is a trans man.)

[spiderman-homecomeme]

i love, i love, i love you

pride & prejudice, but make it peter and mj

[amikotsu]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Naruto Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Uchiha Itachi/Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Itachi & Uchiha Shisui, Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Itachi Characters: Uchiha Itachi, Hatake Kakashi Additional Tags: Year of the OTP Prompt Event 2023, KakaIta Week 2023 (Naruto), Whenever I look at you, Canonical Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dead Uchiha Shisui, Terminal Illnesses, Chronic Illness, Loneliness, Uchiha Itachi-centric, POV Uchiha Itachi, Good Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Itachi Has Issues, Protective Hatake Kakashi, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Hatake Kakashi Is Trying, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Crows, Tsukuyomi - Freeform, Genjutsu, Developing Friendships, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Uchiha Massacre, Saigenzai Series: Part 1 of Year of KakaIta Summary:

“Thank you for listening to me.”

“So this is it.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Let me help you.”

Kakashi insisted, the words a plea for him to listen to whatever reason still remained. Kakashi reached out for him and his eyes widened when the man gripped his shoulders and gave him a little shake. His lips parted, his sharp inhale one of surprise. No one had touched him in years. He had hands that hurt and little else.

@yearoftheotpevent

[bella-caecilia]

My first entry for the "Year of the OTP" writing event @yearoftheotpevent. For my January drabble, I chose the 'fake dating' prompt. I don't quite know why but I really enjoy this trope, I mean look at "Kissing knuckles". This drabble is not connected to "Kissing knuckles" but it's also a modern Cobert AU. Hope you enjoy it!

If you want to read it on AO3, the link is here.

[kiljoius-writes]

Warm Apple Cider

AO3 | FFN

Full YOTP Series Found Here

Paring: Hinata Hyūga x Kiba Inuzuka

Summary: Snow in the Land of Fire never reached considerable levels, but this year, it had. Hinata almost felt lucky for it, she really did enjoy snow. But this time, she felt a tad unlucky. Because tomorrow was her birthday, which would usually mean the timing was perfect. But the timing wasn’t quite perfect, because Kiba hadn’t returned.

That was alright. She was quite used to alone time, anyway.

January Prompt: Snow

Word Count: 4k

Rating: General

I’m completing this prompt list for KibaHina! This will be a series of oneshots, one for every month, ending at 12 works. Each work will have a prompt from the corresponding month, and they will not line up with one another and will likely contradict each other. Each work is meant to be a stand alone story and the length will vary. 😊 I hope you enjoy!

“The Frost has some of the best apple cider in the eastern continent…”

Kiba’s ears perked up at Hinata’s comment. She was standing in his doorframe, accompanying him while he packed for a mission out to the Land of Hot Water. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” She nodded with a smile, looking out towards the window. A light dusting of snow was slowly coating the outside. “They sell it cold, but it can be warmed.”

“When’d you go to the Frost?” he inquired, turning back to his pack.

“I haven’t.” She shook her head. “Hanabi brought it back one time.”

“Ah.” He fished into the top dresser, shoving items back and forth in search. “Damn gloves…”

“Here.” She was next to him in minutes with a pair of thick mittens. “I thought you could use a nicer pair.”

Kiba looked down in surprise as she held them up towards his chest. The heat in his cheeks was only familiar because it was usually only her who could bring it on. He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck as he took them in his other hand. “Didn’ have to do that…”

Hinata reached to the other side of the dresser and revealed his old winter gloves, frayed and tattered with holes throughout them. She brought them up to his eyes with expectantly raised eyebrows. “Hmm?”

“Ah—” He waved the new mittens in front of his face, eyes closed with his smile. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a mess. Good thing I got you watching out for me, huh?”

A little whine from below caught their attention and she let out a soft giggle as she crouched down next to Akamaru. “I watch out for both of you, of course.” Kiba watched as she pulled her pack closer to herself and pulled out a plain, white sweater that nearly blended in with the old pup’s fur. He smirked as Hinata held out her hand for his paw. “May I?”

A cheerful grunt left Akamaru as he sat down and set his paw in Hinata’s hand. Gracefully, she had both his front legs covered, then pulled the sweater over his head, covering most of his body. She smoothed out the sweater with care before bringing her hands together to clap twice.

Kiba couldn’t help but think the sight was downright adorable.

“Perfect.”

She didn’t notice the way Kiba gnashed his teeth together, as if keeping something inside. Akamaru nuzzled his snout between her hands, and she gladly embraced the dog.

“Alright, alright,” he scoffed, nudging Akamaru with his foot. “You spoil him.”

Hinata looked up, corners of her eyes crinkling up at him, and took his offering hand to come back to her feet.

“Anyway,” she continued, tugging at the hem of her sweater to straighten it, “I just remembered the cider when I was looking over your map.”

“How’s it taste?” he asked, buttoning his now fully packed bag.

“Like…apples.” He snickered at that. “But also cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, uhm…it makes me think of bonfires. Woodchips burning, but in a pleasant way?”

“Sounds pretty pleasant,” he teased.

She licked her lips as she thought of it. “Delicious, really.” He couldn’t help but let his eyes land on her lips as she did that. It was almost tantalizing if he didn’t know any better—know her any better.

“Too bad I’m goin’ to the Land of Hot Water, huh?” Her face fell, ever so slightly, but he couldn’t miss it. She nodded, regardless.

“Oh, yes. Of course. I only uhm—” She brought a hand up to her nose to rub, pink dusting her cheeks. “I only brought it up in case your travels happen to take you there.”

“So I can bring you some back?” A little wink her way and she was shaking her hands in front of her face.

“No, no! I’d never impose. Just in case you, Naruto, and Lee would like to stop…and try some. That’s all.”

Kiba chuckled softly as he pulled on the mittens she had just given him. Her eyes went a little wide as he patted the top of her head. “Can’t make any promises, but if we do head up there, I’ll make sure to get you a bunch.”

“Kiba, no, you misunderstand—”

“Wanna escort me out?” His cheeky grin never left him, seemingly enjoying the way he could fluster her, even now. It was something he was becoming accustomed to doing as they became acquainted with their 20’s.

“Well.” She puffed out her cheeks, and he poked his finger into one to deflate it. She shook her head, smiling. “Of course.”

Even a kilometer from the front gates, they could already hear Naruto and Lee’s voices in the distance.

“Promise me you won’t get into some sort of fight with Naruto,” Hinata whispered, cupping her mouth with one palm as if telling a secret, “no impromptu ‘sparring’, please?”

“Hey!” He threw his hands behind his head, cupping it. “Give me some more credit than that, Hinata!”

“I do,” she clarified, “I just feel it is best to remind you.”

“Have a little faith.”

“I have full faith in you, Kiba.”

They stopped in front of each other with still some distance to spare, and she looked up at him with a genuine smile. The words were nothing new from her, but it always made heat bloom in his chest when she said them. “Ah, c’mere.” Her soft giggle tickled his ears as he threw an arm around her, and when she circled both arms behind his torso, he joined his other arm around her neck.

“Safe travels,” she whispered, “and do try to enjoy the little things, while you’re there.”

“Sure, Hina. See you soon.”

The little things.

Kiba’s eyes wandered over the snowy mountains and barren trees.

Cold wasn’t his favorite. Born in the warm summer air, he always sought the sun. The best was when it was still warm as the sun went down, a light breeze, all of the village foliage in full bloom. That part was a more recent appreciation once he was teamed with Hinata, who was prone to pointing out various flowers and other plants. As long as it was warm, Kiba was happy. So, when the sun went away, his lighter side tended to, too. Besides, it’s a little hard to enjoy the ‘little things’ when you’re freezing your balls off.

But he’d take her words to heart, regardless, and try it.

Too bad a team of himself, Naruto, and Lee was…messy, to say the least. Kakashi must have been bored when he threw them together.

“Hey Kiba…” Naruto’s mischievous voice was in his ear. “Bet I can sink a kunai into that tree.”

Kiba’s eyes drifted to where he was pointing, a tree so far in the distance, he couldn’t even make out it’s branches. Then they drifted to an even farther tree. “Yeah, I bet I can sink a kunai into that one.”

“Alright, bet on it.” Naruto held out his hand and Kiba rolled his eyes, slapping his into it. “Loser buys Ichiraku’s.”

“Ugh—no!” Kiba groaned, yanking his hand away. “Don’t you eat anything else?!”

“Nah. C’mon.”

Lee looked back curiously at the two men, jogging back up to them. “What are you—”

Both Naruto and Kiba’s kunai flew threw the air at once past Lee’s head, who instinctively ducked. Then, midair, they clinked into each other in the distance and went opposite directions.

“YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE—”

“WHAT’S THE BIG IDEA—”

“Gentlemen!” Lee called over them, hopping back up to a standing position. “I have a simple solution for this—”

“First one to the tree wins!” Naruto was already speeding off and Kiba growled in frustration, blitzing past Lee to catch up.

“I see!” Lee immediately joined the two in the run.

Naruto was the first to the tree, but Kiba was behind him in seconds, and he stabbed his kunai into the trunk of the tree just as Lee appeared.

“I win,” Kiba heaved, hands on his knees.

“What?!” Naruto asked incredulously, eyes flashing to the kunai.

“Sunk my kunai into it, didn’t I?” Kiba chuckled, straightening back out to lean against the tree.

“Bullshit!” Naruto stomped towards him just as Lee stepped between the two.

“Naruto, Kiba!” Lee held his hands into a T position for time out. “Like I said, I have a simple solution for this!” Both looked up at him, relaxing a little from anger to exasperation. “First one to one-thousand push ups shall be the winner!”

Lee was already on the ground, and Naruto and Kiba slumped over, their argument fizzling out with the theatrics.

Once they finished up a relatively short mission of reconnaissance in the Land of Hot Water, where they had a brief reprieve from constant snow, the team was about to set out. Then Kiba peered out north and finally decided that yes, going through a blizzard would be worth it to see Hinata’s face light up when she realized he’d brought her back the cider she’d been hinting at.

Why she thought she was sneaky after all these years of wearing her heart on her sleeve, he wasn’t quite sure, but it was pretty cute, he had to admit.

He checked their itinerary one last time.

It was a few days back, and if he detoured up to the Frost, it’d add maybe a day. If all went smoothly and he was quick enough, he’d even be able to catch back up with Naruto and Lee. So, of course, he was just going to have to make sure it would go smoothly. Missing her birthday wasn’t an option, and bringing her back cider on the day of it was kind of just perfect.

He crouched down next to Akamaru and laid his arm over his furry back, scratching at his chin. “Hey boy, go ahead with them, okay? I’m gonna go get that cider.” Akamaru whined quietly and he chuckled, patted his head. “Don’t worry about me.” He stood up and let his pack fall off his shoulders, then secured it to Akamaru’s back. “I’ve seen worse.”

Akamaru gave a yip before trotting off towards the other two men, who stopped and turned questioningly when they realized Kiba wasn’t with him.

“Hey!” Naruto called, cupping his hands over his mouth. “Where you goin’?!”

“Gotta make a quick stop! I’ll catch up!” Kiba called back, already walking the other way.

“There?” Naruto asked, incredulously. “It’s a blizzard, dumbass!”

“No shit!” Kiba yelled, waving his hand behind his head to dismiss them. He looked up as Lee appeared next to him.

“Kiba, I will join you! A trek through a blizzard will be a great training exercise in endurance!”

“Ahh—nah, big guy, I’ll go myself.” Kiba shook his head, thumbing behind him to signal Lee to rejoin Naruto.

“What is it you are going for, then?”

“Just a gift. It’ll be quick, I’ll be back in a jiff.”

Lee tilted his head before nodding definitively, leaving him.

Kiba sucked in a sharp breath, cupped his hands over his mouth to blow hot air into them, then broke into a run.

-

Snow in the Land of Fire never reached considerable levels, but this year, it had.

Hinata almost felt lucky for it, she really did enjoy snow. She enjoyed the way it crunched beneath her feet, being able to cover up in multiple, cute sweaters, having an excuse to drink warm beverages around the clock. She also liked the way the lanterns around the village illuminated to something brighter over the flat of snow, and of course, the moonlight if it made an appearance.

But this time, she felt a tad unlucky. Because tomorrow was her birthday, which would usually mean the timing was perfect. But the timing wasn’t quite perfect, because Kiba hadn’t returned.

It was a little silly, she’d admit. But every year since they were genin, he’d always be there for her birthday. He was the one constant. Others would join her sometimes, but there were always years when those she wanted to spend it with, like Hanabi or Shino, were away on missions. This year, both were away, so she had resigned to spending her birthday alone for the first time in quite a while. Not entirely alone, Sakura and Tenten had offered to spend part of it with her, though she knew they were both busy as well and she had a hard time imposing on others.

It was alright. She had become quite accustomed to alone time as she grew older, her birthday would be no different. She was sure once Kiba returned, he’d apologize and try to make it up to her, which she would of course try to insist wasn’t necessary, but it was Kiba they were talking about. For now, she planned a day of tending to her greenhouse and reading with warm hibiscus tea.

It wasn’t the Frost’s warm apple cider, but it was a fair substitute, she thought.

She would also take a small shift at the watchtower, just for good measure.

It was something she’d been doing everyday for the last few days. About a week had passed since Kiba, Naruto, and Lee set out, and that’s when she decided she would try to be present for their return.

The day before her birthday, she sat on the edge of the railing of the watchtower just outside of the Leaf, wrapped in several sweaters and a scarf. She pulled the scarf up a little higher over her reddening nose, then tucked her hands into her sleeves. Her byakugan was active to pick up any chakra signatures, as she should be, but really, she was keeping an eye out for a certain two.

So, when one came into view, her heart lifted. But…it was only three chakra networks. Two normal sized ones, and a dogs. And the two normal sized ones were not Kiba’s.

Soon, they were in view and indeed, it was Naruto, Lee, and Akamaru, and Kiba wasn’t catching up. He was no where to be found. And her heart sank straight down.

Immediately, she dropped from the railing of the watchtower, letting the snow cushion her fall before getting up to run towards them.

“Hinata!” Lee called gleefully, and that alone was enough to quell the immense worry in her chest.

“H-Hello—” Hinata looked on in confusion as the two men stopped in front of her, Akamaru coming up to her side to press against her leg, still clad in her gifted sweater, but also with Kiba’s pack on his back. “Uhm—Kiba?”

“Damn bastard,” Naruto grumbled irritably as he folded his arms, “insisted on making a detour. Told him he’s not built for the cold, but noooo, I’m the idiot—”

“Detour?” Hinata’s voice caught with the word.

Lee beamed. “I believe it is admirable! He explained to me he was on a grand quest—”

“Ha, no.” Naruto raised an eyebrow. “Said he was going to the Frost for some gift.”

Hinata’s fingertips felt tingly. Then, suddenly, the rest of her body began to feel tingly, too.

“Truly a great show of bravery and passion!” Lee raised a fist to his torso, bowing his head. “I insisted on joining him as it seemed like a fantastic opportunity to train my endurance in frigid temperatures—”

“Said he’d catch up.” Naruto shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Must be pretty special for him to go off into a blizzard like that and leave his pack!”

“Blizzard?” Hinata felt a slight swell of panic in her heart.

Naruto flashed her a grin before reaching out to pat her shoulder. “Ah don’t worry! Kiba’s tough, if it was real bad I would’ve knocked him out and dragged him back myself.”

“Oh…” Hinata sighed, eyes dipping to the ground.

Kiba was going to the Frost, and she selfishly assumed it could be for only one reason. And if it was for that reason, she could only feel guilty based on this information. Weathering a blizzard for some apple cider?

How ridiculous.

How silly.

How…Kiba.

“Anyway, I’m freezing my ass off!” Naruto wrapped his arms around himself as he nudged his head to the side. “I’m not built for cold, either y’know! C’mon, let’s get to Kakashi!”

“Right!” Lee nodded.

“Oh—uhm, Naruto?” Hinata turned to them as they began their trek, Naruto spinning around to face her. “I saw Sakura going into Sunny’s Café just a few minutes ago.”

Naruto’s lips split into a grin as he brought his index and middle fingers to his forehead, saluting her. She smiled as he and Lee made for the inner village, then let out a little sigh. She crouched down next to Akamaru who was sitting dutifully with her.

“He’s going to be okay, right?” she asked, softly, to which the pup nosed her knee affectionately. She nodded in understanding. “Would you like me to walk you back to Ms. Tsume’s?” Akamaru whined quietly and she giggled. “Well, alright. When was the last time you spent the night? Must have been over a year ago now…we can go after my shift is over.”

Akamaru yipped happily as he joined next to her.

Hinata spent the night happily spoiling Akamaru with warm bone broth and sausages she kept in her pantry for him before turning in. The next morning, she was up bright and early to walk him back to Tsume’s, who tried to bring her in for tea or coffee, but she politely refused.

“It’s your birthday, innit?” she asked, insistent. Hinata smiled and nodded. “So c’mon, take a breather, why don’t ya?”

“I—” She looked over her shoulder towards the northern entrance of the village before returning to Tsume. “I volunteered as a secondary watch today…”

Tsume raised her eyebrows, hand on her hip. “Why’d you do something like that for your birthday?”

Hinata bit her lip, bounced on her feet for a moment before admitting, “Kiba’s due back.”

The way Tsume’s eyes grew made her blush, so she turned away. “Aha. You two are so…” She sighed, but still smiled. “S…silly.” She smirked, looking proud of the way she caught herself. “Alright, go on. Wait—”

Hinata peered into the home as Tsume disappeared into it. Within moments, she returned with two large thermoses.

“Here ya go.” She shoved them towards Hinata, who quickly took them in her arms. “Miso, one for you, one for my idiot boy when he gets back.”

“Oh.” Hinata clutched them to her chest, nodding quickly. “Yes, perfect. Thank you, Ms. Tsume.”

As she turned to leave, Tsume cleared her throat. “And happy birthday, Hinata.”

“Thank you.” She smiled over her shoulder before making for the northern gates.

As she approached the gates, she readied herself for a long day in the cold, but at least she had the soup to keep her warm. The heat of the thermoses radiated off against her arms and chest as she got closer.

And just to be safe, she activated her byakugan.

She nearly dropped the two thermoses when she saw his chakra network approaching.

Quickly, she burst into a run towards the gates, making out Kiba’s form coming into view—closer, closer, until she could barely make out the red of his fang markings on his cheeks in the distance.

Then she froze. In his hand, a bottle.

“Hinata?” His voice called for her and it made her heart feel light. She hadn’t realized just how much she missed having him here for her birthday.

“Y-Yes!” she called back, crunching through the snow clumsily now. He was laughing at her as she nearly fell over herself multiple times in her haste.

Within moments, she was close enough to really make him out, and that’s when she definitively fell forward.

Like so many other times before, he was quicker than her, and caught her before she could land. She found herself looking up at him, two thermoses still in her arms, his arm around her waist as he held her up.

“In a hurry to see me?” His toothy grin sparkled with the light of the village radiating off the floor of snow.

“I—I uhm—” she stuttered, suddenly feeling flustered and maybe a little foolish. He pulled her up to her feet to right her and she darted her eyes down at the thermoses, then pulled one into her hand to present to him.

“Eh?” He inspected the thermos.

“Miso, from your mother.”

He laughed, taking the thermos from her hand and setting it on the ground. She looked up at him questioningly as he took the other thermos from her hand to join it, then lifted the bottle he had been carrying in front of her face. “Managed to get it.”

“Kiba, you—you didn’t have to.” A nervous laugh let her as he popped the top off for her and she shook her head. “I really do appreciate it, but it really is best warm—”

“Take it.”

Carefully, she wrapped one gloved hand around it and her eyes grew at the warmth in her hand. “How did you—”

“Stopped in that little village on the way and had someone heat it up for me.” Her eyes went from the bottle to his face, finding him looking uncharacteristically shy. He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head. “So it’d be warm when I got it to you. Cause well, it’s your birthday. Sorry I almost missed—”

Before he had a chance to finish, and before she had a chance to take a sip, she had somehow ended up with her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips pressed against his.

“H-Hey—!” She almost felt her heart crashing into her stomach as he pulled away from her, thinking maybe she’d done something wrong, only to find him pulling a pack off his back. “Hold on a minute!”

“What is—” She looked down at a large crate she hadn’t even realized he had been carrying, and it clinked with glassware as he set it on the ground. “Oh my—Kiba, how many did you—”

“Ehh, 12?” He shrugged, twisting it into the ground so it would sit snug. When he rose back to his full height, she looked up at him and warmth quickly blossomed from her cheeks to her neck. He grinned, pointed at the bottle. “Try it.”

“Now?” she breathed and bit her lips together as he nodded. She sucked in a breath then nodded, bringing the smooth glass edge to her lips. She took a long inhale and wow—it was just as good as she remembered it. Smooth, spicy, warm like a blazing bonfire. Just as she pulled the bottle away, she was enveloped in his warm embrace. She gasped as she felt snow on her back when he took her to the ground, and now his lips were taking hers.

Clumsily, she pulled her arms around him, trying to keep the bottle upright as she met his kiss. She almost giggled at the way the taste of the apple cider mixed with whatever berries he had undoubtedly been eating before he returned. She realized it was a delightful taste.

And she kissed him with everything she had because she knew she was fooling herself when she thought maybe it was the cider she was excited for. She kissed him until she was panting and her lips were swollen, until the cold of the snow beneath her numbed parts of her back, the parts his large arms weren’t encasing, until even he was breathless and pulling away.

And despite the cold, she felt warm under his admiring gaze. He brushed his nose against hers, and in turn, his lips, and he whispered, “you’re right.” She bit her lip as she waited his next words, words that lit her up.

“It is delicious.”

Kiba, Naruto, and Lee would be a beautifully chaotic trio and I need more of it in my life.

[yzeltia]

Year of the OTP - January

January: Snow & Historical "AU" Characters: U'rahn Nuhn & @driftward 's Nyx Blackmoon Rating: T for Timey Wimey Notes: All future entries are gonna follow the same format; however, will be parodies of existing media and I'm very excited. Thanks to Driftward for their Blorbo and line editing for Nyx and mechanical passes!

The wind howled as it blustered about the cabin, causing the fireplace to give a little whistle. Nose pressed to the window U'rahn sighed, letting his breath fog the pane.

"Is something wrong, Rahn," Nyx asked from behind.

"Well, I kinda wanted to go night sledding, but the weather doesn't look like it's going to cooperate."

"Did you consult a skywatcher before you made plans to come out here?"

U'rahn blinked then rubbed the back of his head, "No…I guess I should have."

"Agreed."

"Well, it's still a really nice cabin to hang out in. I'm glad we could borrow it for a night. We can just hang out by the fire and drink some cocoa."

"Would you like me to prepare your Hero Cocoa?"

U'rahn blushed and shook his head, "I can do that…you should just relax by the fire. Hey! I know! I'll tell you one of the stories my mom used to tell me as a boy. The Origin of Miqo'te!"

"I am familiar with the origins of Miqo'te. But if you mean that as a storytale, I have not heard it," the women responded, moving by the fire to stand stiffly at attention as she watched U'rahn start to heat milk.

"Right! It started something along the lines of…Upon an Era, long ago, all the Miqo'te lived as one…"

"Our food stores are running low. We're not going to last much longer if we don't figure out a better system of hunting," a golden-haired Miqo'te sighed.

"Agreed," his beautiful mate agreed, painting half her face in a traditional manner, "We are-"

"Rahn. The tradition of hunting paint did not come about until the Keeper tribes were well established."

"Really? Well…maybe I'm misremembering. The point is she was very beautiful and an adept huntress…Anyroad, at odds they started to debate…"

"Jua, I appreciate your insight; however, the best prey moves at night when the moon goddess shines her love down for us as we move shrouded by darkness. The day is far too bright and wears our people down fast."

"Nyx….I mean Mwezi! My beautiful wife. The sun goddess, for which all things thrive under her life giving love, brings us the best bounty for our people. The dark of night leaves our people prone to unseen be dangers that would be revealed in the day."

"You are incorrect."

"Then, let us make a contest of itd! You lead a team of hunters, and so shall I. Over one day we will see who's hunts yield the most."

"Acknowledged."

And so with a kiss, Jua and Mwezi parted company to organize their respective hunting parties. Here too they differed, Jua asked their people to choose among themselves who their best hunters were, and nominate them to come forward. Mwezi chose her companions herself, taking along only huntresses she'd seen prove themselves in battle before her own eyes.

"I am unsure of the veracity of this story, Rahn."

U'rahn looked back, tail swishing as he fiddled with some chocolate in a small bowl. "It's just a storytale! Things are probably a bit off from what really happened. I'm also doing it from memory," he explained away.

"Understood. Continue."

"Right, so Mwezi was the first to hunt."

"The huntresses of the night party hunted close together through the night, ensuring one another stayed safe from any predators that might have chanced upon them. Their hunt took them all night, but by daybreak, they'd found their prize.

Meanwhile, at home, Jua waited for Mwezi to return. His heart ached while she was away, and as the sky went from black to blue he agonized over her return, worried the worst even though in his heart of hearts she was the superior hunter. He waited by the door, thinking only of her and how happy he'd be to see whatever she brought back, even if it meant she'd prove him wrong. His heart drummed within his chest thinking of-"

"Rahn, I am unfamiliar with this story, but I do not understand what Jua's affections have to do with their contest."

U'rahn tilted his head tugging at a bag of large marshmallows before pulling too hard and sending them flying all over the counter. "I'm just…setting the stage a little. Basically, he loves her a bunch and that's important. Anyroad…"

"Daybreak soon came and Jua departed with the elected tribes folk into the light of day. Not needing to worry about hidden predators-"

"There are many species that have evolved to camouflage themselves in the day."

U'rahn stared at his girlfriend for a moment, only getting a stare back of course. Fluttering his ears, he returned to his confection.

The group split managed to find many prizes, and by day's end had a rather large haul. Upon their arrival, Jua and the huntresses were all waking, and soon met the day party at the villager's center. 

"Husband, you've returned," Mwezi greeted, watching as his party brought in their caravan of creatures, some felled, others kept alive for their potential as livestock.

"I have! I bring you twenty-six beasts that might serve for meals and or the longevity of the tribe! Behold the sun goddess's bounty," Jua cheered, gesturing to the creatures behind him.

"That is a menagerie of prey, husband," his wife stated plainly, staring quietly at what was brought in. "We will now present our hunt."

Behind her, the huntresses pulled in a giant buck, larger than their biggest dwelling. Pulling the beast to the tribe center, she nodded to Jua and said, "This one buck will provide meat for an entire moon, its bones will be used as tools for a generation, and the leathers we take will clothe us for just as long. It is the moon goddess that has provided for us."

The entire tribe cheered at the haul. Both husband and wife embraced but then parted.

"It seems both our paths were prosperous this day…but we are not normally so fortunate. Perhaps it was our pride and determination."

"We are a large people. The ecosystem would falter if we hunted with this amount of success every day. I've concluded that our hunting styles and leadership were not to blame. We are too much for this land to take care of. I propose, for a time, we divide ourselves to the north and south to let the land recover."

"How would we ever divide our people though, my beautiful wife?"

"I will take those who hunt by the moon to the north where the days are short. And you, Jua, will take those who hunt by the sun to the south where the days persist."

Jua frowned, "I would be apart from you my love. "

"It is necessary for our tribe to live on."

Jua sighed then held his wife tight, knowing she was right. And so the tribes split, wandering far from one another. Though Jua made sure to visit his beloved Mwezi in the North, when they passed, the two new tribes found little reason to come together. And so, the Keepers and Seekers came to live on separately from one another, evolving from the lovers' small sacrifice of time into healthy tribes that scattered the world over—the end.

U'rahn smiled as he brought over a tray of cocoa and crackers, sitting down by the fire, Nyx lowering herself beside him.

"A good story, yeah?"

"Allagan records indicate the Keepers became night hunters due evolutionary attributes in their eyes allowing them to perceive more light in the darkness, marked by their pupils' dialated appearance.  The Seekers have narrow pupils, allowing them to see greater detail in their surroundings as they don't have to adjust for the intensity of the light around them. To survive, it was necessary to form bonds with those who had similar biological advantages for hunting. I do not believe your story was true, Rahn."

U'rahn frowned a bit and shook his head, "Well, it probably isn't. It's just a storytale…or a umm…"

"Fable. As a story, I can appreciate it. Thank you for sharing it with me."

The Nuhn lit up a bit then scooted closer to his girlfriend, as she looked down at her cocoa. Atop, two marshmallows floated, one with cinnamon sprinkled on top and a crudely drawn cat face, the other dipped half way in dark chocolate with two mismatched eyes. "You have made these gelatin cubes into our likeness."

"Well, I figured I'd make something special…y'know, for us. Our own version of Herrro chocolate."

"Understood. Thank you, Rahn."

"A good experrrience?"

"Yes, Rahn."

Drinking his cocoa deep, he let out a happy purr then leaned against her as he tangled their tails together. Fluttering his ears, he sighed happily then began to doze, Nyx quickly taking his mug before it could spill over into their laps. Outside, the snow continued to fall, and once Nyx had finished her drink she nudged U'rahn awake, leading him sleepily upstairs to rest properly together for the night.

[lavellenchanted]

Year of the OTP

January | Fake Dating

I did not manage to get the entire thing finished, but please enjoy a preview of the next installment of the Steggy fake dating AU for month one of year of the OTP.

Dr Helen Cho is a doctoral student, who explains as she lets Steven and Peggy into her office that she’s running this study as part of the research for her thesis - which uses a lot of complicated language but  Steve eventually understands is, essentially, exploring the psychology of intimacy. 

In his mind he had conjured an image of someone clinical and dispassionate in a white lab coat with a clipboard, but Dr Cho’s in jeans and a tailored navy blue blazer, a university lanyard around her neck and a pen tucked behind her ear, just visible where her hair is swept back into a knot at the base of her neck. Her eyes were warm and she clearly cares about her subject.

“That’s why we’re focusing on romantic couples first - moving from dating to cohabiting will naturally impact how intimacy develops and is experienced, but I’m not just looking at it from a romantic perspective. I’m also planning on running studies on platonic and familial relationships as well,” she says, gesturing for them to sit in the chair opposite her desk, while she settles herself and readies her laptop for taking notes. 

Steve can’t help thinking that if she had started with her platonic study first, he would have been saved a lot of bother. Although he supposes that strictly speaking platonic might not the best word to use for a friendship where one side is trying to conceal the fact that they’re in love with the other

“That’s also why you two make such a fascinating case to have as part of the study, as a couple that cohabited platonically before you started a romantic relationship,” Dr Cho continues. “I’m very interested to see how your data will compare with our other couples.”

She smiles at them, clasping her hands on the desk in front of her, and has such a poised, confident air that Steve is immediately sure she’s going to see straight through their lying. Which, honestly, would be no more than they deserve; now that he’s met her, he cannot help feeling a twist of guilt, and fervently hopes what they’re doing won’t completely skew her data.

Maybe she can sense his discomfort, or maybe she’s just trying to act the part, but whatever the reason Peggy reaches across to lace her fingers with his and rest their joined hands on his thigh. The weight is warm and reassuring - albeit a little distracting - and grounds himself enough to take a breath.

They’re doing this because they’re desperate, he reminds himself. It’s this, or an eviction notice.

“Well, we can’t wait to get started,” Peggy says.

“Great. Let’s just get straight into it, shall we? This will just be an informal conversation, so I can get to know you outside what you put in your applications and learn more about your relationship. Then I’ve put together a questionnaire for you to take home and fill in separately before the next session. Are you both happy for me to record this?”

“Record it?” Steve repeats warily.

“Yes, just audio, not on camera.” Dr Cho holds up a dictaphone. “It makes it easier for note taking and means I can replay your answers - it won’t be shared with anyone, nor will there be any copies.”

“Oh, well, sure, I guess.” Steve glances at Peggy who nods, seemingly completely at ease with the whole process.

A few moments later, the recording has started and Dr Cho has her fingers hovering over her keyboard, set to type as they speak. 

“So - you’ve been dating for eight months, but you’ve been living together for a year, is that correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did you know each other before you started living together?”

Peggy shakes her head. “No. I only moved to New York a year ago, to study law at Columbia, and I answered Steve’s listing looking for a roommate. We’d never met before that.”

“Have either of you ever cohabited with a romantic partner before?”

“No,” Steve says, but at the same time Peggy, a flush stealing over her cheeks, says in a clearly reluctant voice, “. . . Yes.”

He stares at her. She keeps her eyes fixed so determinedly on Dr Cho that he can’t help thinking she’s deliberately avoiding looking at him.

If Dr Cho notices his surprise, she diplomatically chooses not to comment on it and instead continues focusing on Peggy, “May I ask how long ago? And how long you lived together?”

A grimace flickers across her face, but a beat passes and then she sighs and says shortly. “About five years ago. We only lived together for a few months - five, I think? No more than that. Then we broke up. It was a disaster.”

The jealousy that has started clawing its way up Steve’s insides loosens its hold a little to hear her put so bluntly, but it doesn’t dissipate entirely. Which is ridiculous, he knows, since he’s not actually her boyfriend - and even if he were there’s no reason to feel jealous over a relationship from half a decade ago, he can hardly expect her not to have a past. 

But that’s just the problem. He thought he knew all about her past, only now he’s discovering that there are things she’s kept from him. It’s not just jealousy churning in his stomach but hurt, and a kind of feeling of betrayal. 

What else hasn’t she told him? And why? 

Dr Cho has made a few notes, her keystrokes loud in the quiet of her office, and now asks,“Could you describe for me the differences you found in starting to date someone after having lived together compared to moving in with someone you were already dating?”

Peggy’s silent for a time before answering, sitting back in her chair, her mouth twisting slightly to one side in the way it does when she’s thinking carefully about something.

“I suppose . . . with Fred - my ex - it was kind of like a shattering of illusions. We both thought we knew each other, but when we started living together we realised we’d both been trying to be these - these polished, perfect versions of ourselves, hiding our flaws, and when they came out we were inevitably disappointed with one another. Whereas, with Steve - ” 

Her gaze darts briefly to Steve and her blush deepens. Assuming she’s embarrassed about whatever story she’s about to make up, Steve gently squeezes her fingers, trying to offer her some reassurance that he’s still here with her and they’re in this together. Whatever other surprises she might have in store, that isn’t going to change. 

“With Steve, we really did know each other far better. It felt . . . it felt like jumping into a relationship much further down the line. Which has its own pressures, but still. We were already so close, it somehow didn’t feel like our relationship changed that much. There was a much stronger foundation there, I think.”

Steve smiles, and he hopes it doesn’t show on his face just how much he wishes what Peggy was saying was true.

[ainyan]

Year of the OTP - January - "First Kiss"

Year of the OTP || Master List

January

first kiss | mission fic | fake dating | “whenever I look at you…” | snow | historical au

OTP: Miurani'kal'istae and Theron Shan (SW:TOR)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Conned a lot of imperial agents with phony backstories over the years.” Kal’istae raised an eyebrow and Theron smirked down at her, then winced slightly as the expression tugged open the cut on his lower lip. “Ah! I have,” he insisted. “And yet here I am, telling you the straight-up truth.”

The Chiss looked amused, crossing her arms and easing back on her heel. “So you say.” 

He shrugged at her, and his grin was decidedly lopsided as he favored his split lip and the bruises blossoming on his cheek. “I don’t blame you for not believing me. I’m the enemy.” His expression sobered, as did hers. “At least, I will be again if we live through it all.”

Scarlet eyes snapped up to his, and even he could read the ire in that alien gaze. “You know better than to think like that.”

He shrugged, turning his own away. “I know.” He sighed, then gave a half-laugh. “Gotta say, though,” he murmured, his eyes sliding back towards hers, his smile sly, “I’ve enjoyed this while it’s lasted.”

Back on steadier ground - she didn’t want to feel compassion for the man! - Kal’istae smirked right back. “It has had its charm, hasn’t it?”

The invitation was clear in her cocky smile; but, it had always been there. Flirtation was as much a part of her kit as it was his, and it had been easy to play along when there’d been no chance of anything coming from it. Something had changed, however; there was a charge in the air, an electricity in her smile, a spark down his spine that warned that this was a corner he might not want to turn.

As he hesitated, she watched him with knowing eyes, and he could see the same internal struggle reflected in that glowing gaze. Damn, he thought, even as his lips spread in that trademark cocky grin, heedless of the pain of his cuts and bruises. When her own curved in response, he threw caution to the winds. “You could say that.”

It was even odds which of them stepped forward first. Between one breath and the next, she was in his arms, her own wound around his neck, fingers tangling in his short-cropped hair. He tightened his grip, hauling her up to her tiptoes, and closed his mouth over hers.

He’d expected cold lips and a stiff body, for a kiss without reason to be treated more as a burden than a joy. Too many spies - particularly the female ones - weary after days and months of using their looks and wiles to anyone’s end but their own, seemed to find no pleasure in even the most uncomplicated of affectionate expression. And the stories about the Chiss? Everyone knew the Chiss were…

Oh my. It was the last coherent thought he had. Her lips were soft and warm, her body pliant, molding itself against his as if made to fit. The hands in his hair gripped just this side of too-tight, with exactly the right amount of pressure. When her lips parted against his, her tongue darting out to taste and test, he could taste heat and spice and a hint of fiery sweet that made him think of a cordial, though he could not name the base. Twisting his fingers into the back of her jacket, he yanked her hard against him and sank into the kiss.

She’d expected stale caf and bad food. She’d expected bruising lips and grabbing hands. Most spies, in her experience, lacked subtlety when not plying their trades; as if unburdened by the need to seduce, they reverted to a rutting state. And to be fair, Theron Shan did not seem to her to be the kind of man to put much care in appearances unless he had to. Anyway, he was a Pub. Everyone knew Pubs were…

Oh my. Her mind skittered to a halt, trailing off into gibberish as she felt his mouth, firm and warm against her own. There was caf, yes - dark and rich with smooth chocolate undertones that cut the bitter and added a hint of sweet. There was spice, as well, a hint of burn on the tongue that left one craving more. As their tongues clashed, their teeth scraped, their lips bruised, she clung to him and chased wholeheartedly after the pleasure promised in his embrace, losing herself in the thrill.

Eventually, lung capacities reached critical and they parted, him with a sigh, her with a faint noise of regret. Untangling her fingers from his hair, Kal’istae slid down his body and took a step back. Theron’s fingers trailed along her hips before he pulled his hands back, folding them in loose fists to keep from grabbing her back. They stared each other, an unexpectedly awkward silence springing up between them.

Finally, Theron broke it with a half-hearted quip. “And they said I’d spontaneously implode if I ever kissed an Imp…”

Kal’istae barely stopped herself from blowing out her breath, hiding her lingering discomposure behind a faint sneer. “Perhaps by the time we reach Yavin Four,” she suggested, and Theron shot her a cocky grin.

“Not the most subtle hint,” he lightly rebuked, and she smirked at him, “but yeah. We need to get going.” He shrugged. “I’ll have Jakarro plot a route to Yavin Four. Who knows? Maybe if we ask nice, Revan will stop.”

He could see the retort in her scarlet eyes - it was exactly the same one that rested on the tip of his tongue. But she merely nodded and turned on heel, striding from the room.

As the door slid shut behind her, he exhaled sharply. “Stars. What was I thinking?” Giving a soft laugh of disbelief, he lifted his fingers to his lips, then winced as he brushed against his once-more bleeding cut. “Ow. Right. Business.”

It was all business. Right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Kal’istae paused in the curving hall leading out of the base and exhaled the breath she’d been holding on a sharp gust of air. “Flame,” she muttered, reaching up to press her fingertips between her breasts. “That was a mistake. And not one I’ll make again.”

But she took another minute to smile, committing the moment to memory, before dismissing it from her thoughts and returning to business.

It was all about business.

[female-fogbank]

Theirs was a friendship borne of necessity, blood and survival. Unspeakable horrors they had to endure during the war left an indelible mark on their souls.

M'Benga, like any medical professional, struggled to reconcile his actions as a soldier with the ethics and morality of his Hippocratic oath.

Read the rest of Survivor's Guilt on AO3 here